


Prompts Collection Bin

by SemperTardius



Series: Oneshot Collection [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperTardius/pseuds/SemperTardius
Summary: A series of oneshots written as a part of a challenege to myself. I went through various prompt-generators and while I had terrible internet this past year, I worked on these babies. Most of these are Allen-centric, though there are a couple that are not.Chapter One: You've Got Mail
Series: Oneshot Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658146
Kudos: 4





	1. You've Got Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen is struggling to keep himself together through the grand finale of his first seemster of college: Dead Week. Also known as the "week where everyone is too busy studying to even consider things like communicating with family". Obviously this becomes an issue.

**You’ve Got Mail**

* * *

“College sucks,” Allen muttered. He was outwardly relaxed. Inwardly, however, he was a hot mess. He hated Finals Week. It was a stressful period of time. Days upon days of cramming for a single class’s test; just for the big event to only take an hour to complete the exam. It was ridiculous. Allen felt like tearing his hair out and crying in frustration. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had had meaningful human contact. Because, as everyone well knows, a roommate does not count as such.

“Stop thinking so loudly!” said roommate snarked. “I can hear you from across the room. I’m trying to study I peace, you idiot.”

And Kanda was even less company than the average roommate.

Allen sighed, sitting up straighter at his desk. He reminded himself that he only had one more chapter of notes for his Japanese class to review, and then he could take a breather for the rest of the day. If he was diligent enough, and bought a package of soba from the market, Allen might even convince Kanda to practice speaking with him a bit. The bribery of more soba would likely go a long ways in that endeavor…

A pounding on the door interrupted the tense atmosphere of the room. Kanda growled, slamming his pencil down with enough force that Allen was surprised neither the wood nor graphite broke.

“Allen, are you there?”

“Baka Usagi,” Kanda muttered. He glared at Allen. “Well? Go get the damn door!”

Allen rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Lavi was asking for him, so technically their friend was Allen’s responsibility to get rid of at the moment. It was an escape from studying anyways.

He opened the door, slipping out into the hallway. He was simply going to tell Lavi how unappreciated the disturbance was and be done with the matter. Then he saw the red head’s concern.

“What’s wrong, Lavi?” Allen asked. He was then shocked when his friend grabbed him firmly by the shoulders.

“Allen, why have you been ignoring your family?” Lavi demanded.

“What are you talking about?” the accused freshman retorted in return. He was completely confused by the question and mere suggestion that he had ignored any one of his relatives.

“Neah told Adam, who told Road, who told the _others_ ,” Lavi babbled at neck-breaking speed. “And Bookman also heard, like everyone else, that you haven’t talked to him. So we’ve all been trying to contact you for three days now!”

Allen was horrified by proof of his family’s network of gossip at first, but that quickly morphed into horror at the thought his family had been hunting him so tenaciously. He almost didn’t know the reason. Almost.

_Neah…if I die from overstudying…know that I love you._

It had been a harmless joke at the end of an email, an exaggeration of every university student’s plight during Dead Week.

“Seriously?” Allen asked bluntly. “Neah was freaking out because I was busy studying my a—bum off?”

“He _did_ think it was just a joke,” Lavi defended. “But then you never answered any of his emails, calls, or texts!”

Allen recalled having cellphone. Vaguely. He usually left it charging every day. It was truly only his alarm clock, and nothing more. And after an incident during midterms, he had determinedly put his phone on silent and relied on Kanda for a wakeup call.

“Umm, I suppose I’ll just give them a quick shout then,” Allen said awkwardly. He wondered if he would have any time left in the day to study. All plans to bribe Kanda for some practice were shot. Luckily, he could probably practice with his other family members, as Mana, Neah, and Adam had all lived in Japan long enough to become fluent. Actually, it wouldn’t surprised him if that unholy trio had already planned out a course of action to hinder his progress in uni long enough to get kicked out so that he would have to go back to London.

Allen bid Lavi farewell and went to check his phone. The freshman unplugged his phone and unlocked it. His eyes bulged. Over fifty missed calls (at least two hundred!), seventy-six text messages, and even more emails. As he opened the first (of one-hundred-and -ifty) emails, he smiled to himself.

Cross would normally not have put so much effort into trying to get in touch with him. But when concerned, he was just like the others. As an orphan whose early memories of abandonment and hate, these calls, emails, and texts were all proof that he was loved now. He was excited at the prospect of having over a hundred pieces of evidence affirming that he had family at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: He was excited to see 150 new emails in his inbox  
> Thank you for your support and taking your time to read this!  
> It is not a quality piece, and was simply a personal challenge to write stories to random prompts, and this spans several fandoms.  
> I am not sure if any of you call the week before Finals "dead week", but on my campus we did call it that. Funnily enough, it was really only a three-day break between the last day of class and the first day of testing, and it continued for about a week and a half. During this time the entire campus shuts down as everyone retreats to their homes, libraries, and other quiet places to study, hence the name "Dead Week". After tests, students are able to go on their break, either summer or winter breaks.  
> If you would like to take any ideas or even adopt this feel free to ask me about it! There is definitely a bit of background that did not make it into the final piece.


	2. Girls and Dolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are dolls only for girls?" he asked once.

**Girls and Dolls**

* * *

“Are dolls only for girls?” he asked once.

“Why would boys play with dolls?” the adult responded.

He did not explain that he was a boy and that _he_ wanted to play with dolls.

“I want to play with dolls,” he once said. The others looked at him strangely, a few laughed.

“Dolls are for girls!”

He did not explain that he _liked_ to play with dolls.

“Honey, you can’t play with dolls,” she told her son, lifting him up into her arms.

“But I like playing with dolls,” he protested.

He did not add that he liked cute and pretty things _too_.

“Mother, why can’t I wear pretty dresses?” he complained as she rocked him in her arms.

“Because you’re a boy,” she answered.

“But I want to be pretty like a doll,” he pouted.

His mother continued to rock him, but she said _nothing_.

“Do you want to be a girl?” his friend asked.

“I can’t. I’m a boy,” he replied sullenly. His frown eased.

_Yes_. He wanted to be a _girl_.

“You are pretty,” someone complimented.

“Am I?” he asked, uncertain.

“Well, you are cute now. I think one day you will be a pretty girl.”

Dressed in clothes like a doll, he thought of himself as ‘ _her’_ and _‘she’_.

“This is shameful!” his father shouted.

His mother said nothing as his dresses were torn, dolls smashed. Him, his, he, they insisted.

He felt his heart _ache_ painfully. He was a she. She knew it. Why did no one else?

It hurt. Her head. Her body.

Hatred, pure hatred, burned and boiled in her blood.

Humanity. How it hated her. Always, always, always.

Now…she hated _it._

“Are you playing with dolls again?” asked her uncle.

“You can play with me,” she offered. He made a face.

“I am a grown man,” he responded loftily. “Too old.”

She smiled. He _accepted her_.

“Your Noah and human form are both female. Is his because of the powers of the Noah of Dreams?” asked her adoptive brother.

“I am me,” she responded simply.

“Of course you are,” the mind reader agreed. “ _And_ _you_ …love sweets, cute things, and dolls.”

They had a new member of the family.

“Can I play with your dolls?” he asked one day. Unlike her, he was a boy content with being a boy. Yet still he wanted to play with dolls.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Even if dolls are for girls?”

And she smiled.

“Dolls are for everyone,” she told him. “Boys can play with them too.

Humanity. Why judge the ones that conform when being human embraced being different (from animals)?

Road did not understand them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: As a child, he'd been told dolls were for girls.
> 
> Thank you for your support and taking your time to read this!  
> As soon as I saw this prompt included dolls, I immediately thought of Road. I did pull a bit of childhood experience for this. My name sounded like a boy's name, and as the daughter of a single mom who worked in a male-dominated field, I was encouraged to do things I liked to od and dress how I like to dress. Boy clothes and toys were the coolest, and I did not have interest in "girly" things until middle school. Even to this day, half my interests and clothes would align to one side or ther other. For the record, I identify as a heterosexual female, much to the confusion of several people. My experiences were not the same as the main character in this story, but I did my best to put myself in (this version of) Road's shoes.  
> If you would like to take any ideas or even adopt this feel free to ask me about it! There is definitely a bit of background that did not make it into the final piece.


	3. Sweet Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen was a contradiction. She always had been, and likely always would be.  
> Female Allen, Poker Pair.

**Sweet Submission**

* * *

Allen was a contradiction. She always had been, and likely always would be. If one were to ask her opinion of this statement, she might laugh and say, _all people are contradictory in nature_. She viewed herself as no exception to this rule.

To her comrades, she was both extremely complicated and disgustingly simple to understand. She fought to save (humanity and akumas alike) through destruction. It was her purpose, her _raison d’etre_. When asked about anything, the girl responded honestly and simply, yet even these blunt answers gave little away about herself. Allen, in response to Lenalee’s complaints of hearing unsatisfactory explanations, said this: _if you have not understood what I alluded to, then you have not lived it, and you would not understand my meaning even if I told you in plain words._ Allen hid mention of darker things from those sheltered by the Black Order. All of them had suffered in some way or another, but the things they went through were simply not the same, and they would not understand: abandonment, starvation, abuse, rape. Lenalee and Kanda had suffered abuse and torture, the latter more than the former, but Allen had been a street urchin. She had experienced all of those things and more. The girl hid her shattered soul so no one would see just how jagged those rough edges actually were.

Only in the dim light of the nearly new moon, before her own reflection in a silvery pool, did she voice her darkness, confessed her dual nature. It was her sacred place; a garden housing plants for the science division’s experiments. For whatever reason, no one like to go into the greenhouse on the darkest nights. So she ventured alone there during waning crescents, new moons, and waxing crescents. Alone, she looked into the abyss of her soul and confessed all of her darkest truths aloud. Lest they consume her wholly.

There was one, however, who knew each of these secrets. One who had watched her from the shadows. Allen’s perfect complement. She was a lighter shade of grey, he the darker. He was openly selfish and secretly selfless; she was openly selfless and secretly selfish. He reveled in causing pain and she hated it. He flaunted his inhumanity with pride while she hid her own with compassion. They were so similar, almost the same in some ways, and yet complete opposites. Like _yin_ and _yang_.

As soon as Allen learned that he had been spying on her, she had been furious. But she had also ben unable to ignore their instant connection. She knew him as well as she knew her own hands. He knew her too; every single secret, not limited to the bindings she used on her breasts to hide her sex. It was not trust—no, she would never really trust him in the traditional sense, but it certainly _was_ a kind of trust. She trusted her comrades with her life. But her little eavesdropper she entrusted with every single secret she kept tightly clutched to her bosom.

A hand caressed the line of her throat beneath the weak moonlight the feeble crescent tried to cast down on them.

“When will you give in?” he whispered into her ear. Allen snorted.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she replied tauntingly. He chuckled. The man’s body felt warm and solid against her back. His soft curls tickled her neck, rough stubble scraped gently against her jawline, then ear, then throat as he nuzzled into the hollow of her neck. She resisted the urge to smile at him fondly. Absently, the girl thought it unfair that her enemy was so gorgeous, even though a part of the physical attraction lay in the strength he exuded as a fighter.

“Join us, girl,” he murmured against her skin. Very nearly a kiss.

She gazed at the beautiful dying thumbnail of the moon hanging high above them.

“And her I thought you wanted just my body.”

He grazed his teeth lightly against her ticklish flesh, then kissed it chastely.

“I want your everything.”

It was time. She’d fought against it for so long. Promises of family and love. Dreams of being whole with her lover.

Allen turned in his arms. Gazing into golden eyes, she very nearly lost her sense of self. He looked down at her with awful, earnest, tempting promises of seduction.

“It’s time,” she whispered. She leaned up to his ear and whispered the only secret he still did not know. “Llean.”

Her true name. Mana had never named her for his dog, though she had asked to be named in honor of the faithful companion who had saved her soul and heart. He had done things a little differently though, to fulfill her request. He took the letters from the name “Allen” and made them into a name worthy of a princess. Or so she had thought all of those years ago.

Tyki pulled back, his golden eyes burning molten. He kissed her, and she gave in. One day, she would fully surrender. But not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It was time. She'd fought against it for so long.  
> Hello everyone! I do apologize for not updating last weekend. Due to travel and a few unforseen detours on the way back, I was unable to do so. Moving onto this story, I hope you do not mind this. When I wrote this, I thought about Allen Walker's dilemma between joining the Noahs and remainging with the Order and decided to add a little bit of romance in there since I have not done Poker Pair in a while. I have always wanted to try writing Allen Walker as a girl as well, and I think that added less to the story (it was still a fun twist for me though). Anyways, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope that you enjoyed it. If you would like to adopt it, take any ideas, etc, please feel free to contact me as there is certainly more to this story than what I wrote.  
> I would also like to wish everyone good health and safe haven in current hardships.


End file.
